Morning
by K.E.Degz
Summary: UPDATED! Jasper escapes Forks, grieved and unclear on his next step. All he knows is that he must find Alice's reincarnation, Rosemary Gordon, in Seattle. When Rosemary finds a familiar face in her Art class, will her memories return to her? R&R!
1. Prologue

**Standard Disclaimer**: I don't own Twilight or any of its gorgeous characters...*sighs*

**Summary**: Alice is gifted with the ability to see the future. She is loved by her brothers, her sister, her friends, and Jasper. She knows her time as a vampire has come to an end, and she goes to meet her demise. Jasper and the Cullens are devestated by the loss, but their entire world is turned upside down when her sould finds her way to the body of gifted - dying - Rosemary Gordon, giving both Rosemary and Alice a second chance at life. R&R.

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**Morning**

**Prologue  
**

Alice was dead. The fire had been one of the most devestating disasters that Forks, Washington, had ever seen and Alice was dead because of it. Why had she gone alone? Why had she insisted on going alone? Her emotions were calm, confident when she walked in. She had said that she must face this alone...but dear God why did it have to be her?

"Jasper?" Rosalie stepped down to sit with her 'twin' on the stoop of the hospital's back door. "Are you alright?"

Jasper didn't speak. He could feel her grief, and it wasn't helping his any. All he could do was stay silent, alone. Being around others' grief wasn't helping at all. He wanted to run back home, but his feet were too heavy. The hospital was the hardest place for him to be, half because of the grieving pain he felt, half because of the blood that ran rampant. The smell would normally drive his carnal nature out of the park. "I don't know how to feel right now," he said quietly.

Rosalie nodded. "She was your 'Bella.'"

"Bella is Edward's Alice," Jasper replied coldly, closing his eyes. He didn't know what he felt; he couldn't even shed a tear. He seemed to have used up all the tears he had at the site of the fire. Worse and worse still, Edward had held him back and prevented him from going in to save her--saying that she was already dead. Anger? Should he be angry now? He opened his eyes, gold drowned with what would normally be tears... A vision of Alice was standing before him. She was so beautiful; a reminder of what she was to him and how she was his only salvation. The longer he stared, however, still consumed with his grief, his vision that did not disappear. Jasper didn't know if their kind could have ghosts or not, but it seemed that they did--and that the ghost of Alice was standing before him, covered with scars and burn marks on her arms and legs.

"Alice...?" His eyes went wide, his mouth dropped. Rosalie looked up to where Jasper was staring at but didn't see anything.

"What's wrong?" Jasper moved slowly, afraid that if he were to take one wrong step then she would disappear. She smiled, silent, haunting, horrifying; then she was gone--swept into the Hospital doors.

"Alice!" Jasper tore inside the hospital corridors, following the speeding vision of Alice. Everybody else was slow, almost stationary in comparison to his speed. Nurses, burn victims, dying and dead... Although he could feel Carlisle and Edward, Bella and Emmett around, he did not stop to look for them. He knew that they were all grieving too. He stopped in front of one of the rooms, seeing Alice go in. A couple in their mid 40s were sobbing over their daughter's body. Grief was thick in the air.

"Time of death," said an Orderly, "8:23 pm." Alice was standing over the girl's body. She looked up and smiled at Jasper. He suddenly remembered the words she'd said to him as she entered the old warehouse:

_"I'll come back for you."_

And then, Alice's soul dissipated into smoke and went up the dead girl's nose. She suddenly took in a deep breath and began coughing violently. The Orderly gasped, as did the Nurses. They came and tended to her as the girl's mother, a beautiful Asian woman with short cropped hair came and cried over her, laughing at the same time.

"Rosey! Rosey! You came back to me!" she sobbed, holding her husband's hand. Jasper recognized him--he was Owen Gordon, a well-respected author who lived in Seattle.

"I don't believe it, she was dead for..." The voices all faded away when the girl was sighing, smiling at her parents. She turned her head and stopped when she saw Jasper, staring at her. Her skin was gold, tanned from the sun; her hair was a long mane of wild black waves and curls with short bangs that fell to her eyebrows. Freckles littered her high cheekbones; lashes curled up around her almond-shaped eyes. Within those eyes shone the soul of his Alice, alive with the sight of premonition and her love for him. What came next shocked Jasper into submission.

"Who are you?" asked her whispering voice.

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**A/N**: Thanks for reading! More chapters to come if you guys are interested! ^_^


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This is just one of those obligatory, self-loathing disclaimers to remind myself and everybody around me that I do not own Twilight. It's probably a good idea that I don't, though... If I did own Twilight or any of its characters, none of the males would ever leave my bedroom.

**Summary:** Alice has died tragically in what is now being called the Great Forks Fire. Several lives were lost, primarily vampiric, and many were injured in the fire. Dr Carlisle Cullen is working around-the-clock to heal the burn victims in need, and is also taking a great interest in Rosemary Gordon, a gifted young empath that lives in Seattle. When her family decided to vacation in Forks for the long weekend, they had no idea that Rosemary would suffer a great injury and acquire the soul of Alice Cullen, Jasper Hale's doomed bride.

Now that Rosemary has her life back, the already touched student is now dealing with an expansion of her 'gift,' which include either horrific memories or visions of things yet to come. Her mind is ridden with images and thoughts of an angel with flaxen tresses and piercing gold eyes. As her world returns to normal in the elite neighborhood of Washington Park, Seattle, she is slowly coming to terms with the thought that - perhaps - something strange had happened that night in Forks, and that death(or even near-death) is only the beginning.

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**Morning**

**Chapter 1**

"Well, I don't know how you did it, Miss Gordon, but you seem to have made a one-hundred percent recovery," said Dr. Carlisle Cullen, glancing over his clipboard at the golden-skinned teen that Jasper had suddenly become obsessed with. "In medical terms, it's called a miracle," said he with a smile.

Trisha smiled; she was sitting on the edge of Rosemary's bed, her arms around her shoulders. "She's a miracle anyway," she said, kissing the top of her daughter's head.

Owen was standing at the foot of the bed, glancing at Dr. Cullen's charts on his daughter. "When can we take her home?"

"Well," Carlisle began, looking deeply at Rosemary, who was blushing yet calm. "The charts are perfect... How are you feeling, Miss Gordon?"

"Much better, thank you," she said. Her voice was young yet had the tiniest hint of the melody that Alice had spoken with. "I'm just a little tired. And I wish I had my own clothes." Her smile was charming, her lips full and soft. The more and more he looked at her, studied her, he couldn't deny that the shimmer in her soulful brown eyes shone with a faraway knowing that only Alice had. The thought wasn't preposterous, by any means, that Alice had reincarnated in this girl's body. After all, they were both a similar age and Rosemary Gordon seemed to be terribly bright and very sweet. Carlisle's compassion was, possibly, getting the better of him. He hated to see Jasper suffer. Alice had been his salvation, and she was the sunshine of the Cullen coven.

"As long as you feel alright, you're free to go home. I would, however, like to prescribe a mild painkiller should you feel any...shall we say, aftereffects from your accident? If that's alright with you, Mr Gordon--"

"Please, Dr Cullen, call me Owen," said Rosemary's father, gratefully shaking Carlisle's hand. "We owe you a lot--I just wish there were a way to repay you."

Carlisle smiled. "Just doing my job, Owen. Tell you what, send me an autographed copy of Malchior and Jane when it comes out and we'll call it even. My family likes your books--especially my son." This was true; Jasper had been a fan of Owen Gordon's literature for quite some time. He just didn't think that his lover's soul would incarnate in his favorite author's daughter's body...

"Oh, you have a son?" Trisha asked.

"Well, three sons, t—er, one daughter—all adopted. Their names are Emmet and Edward—and my niece and nephew, Jasper and Rosalie Hale. They're twins…their parents died, so my wife and I took them in a few years ago."

"Jasper?" Rosemary asked. "Was that the blond boy that I saw last night?"

"Rosy, that was probably just a dream," said Owen, smiling at her.

She looked downward for a moment. Carlisle did not speak for two reasons: he couldn't believe that Rosemary recognized Jasper, and he didn't have the heart to tell her yes or no. "Daddy, why don't we do something better and invite them all to the book opening?" Rosemary suggested suddenly.

"Oh, Rosy, that's all the way in Seattle," said Trisha.

"Nonsense! That's a wonderful idea!" Owen said, beaming and turning to Carlisle. "I'll send an invitation here to the Forks Hospital. It won't be for another month or so, but it would mean so much if you could come--with your family of course."

Carlisle smiled. This was probably a bad idea, but it couldn't hurt to discuss it with the family before saying no. "That's very kind. I'll certainly try." Rosemary smiled and closed her eyes, leaning against Trisha's chest, taking a deep breath. There _was_ something vaguely haunting about Rosemary...about her personality and her smile. Jasper _could_ have just been trying hard to deal with the grieving process by making up this story, but stranger things have been known to happen. He certainly wasn't about to renounce any kind of theories of what happened to Vampiric souls in the afterlife. "The nurse will be in soon to brief you about the medication I'm prescribing you, and the proper paperwork. Once that's all taken care of, you're free to go. If you'll excuse me, I have some other patients to attend to," he said, tucking his pen behind his ear and exiting the room.

After he checked on a few more of his patients that were recovering from the Warehouse fire, he returned to his office. Upon entry, he found Esme standing by the window, dreamily gazing outward into the haze.

"I think Jasper could be right," she said quietly. She turned, her hair lighting up with the dreary light of the fluorescent bars in the ceiling. "I don't know how to explain it, but I feel Alice in that girl's heart."

"Did you tell Jasper that?" asked Carlisle, coming and wrapping his arms around his bride.

"I didn't know how he would react, so I kept it to myself. I'm sure that Edward will tell him, though. The darling even seems like she recognizes Jasper deep down." Esme sighed and leaned her head into Carlisle's chest. "Maybe I'm just grieving too, but it would be comforting if--only for a moment--I could believe that Alice was given a second chance at life after hers was so abruptly ended..."

"But Alice must have known this would happen," Carlisle reminded. "There's no way she wouldn't have."

"I know... But I figured that this would be something that Edward would do first. You know, with Bella and all?" Carlisle nodded. "I don't think that Alice would have done this just to show Edward how, though... Maybe she just saw no other way?"

"At least that other coven is dead to the last member," said Carlisle, stroking Esme's hair. "Alice sacrificed herself entirely to save all of us. Let's remember her that way? Who really wants to live forever?"

"Alice and Jasper did, together..."

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Rosemary had slept most of the way back to the manor in Washington Park. Seattle's roads were only a little slippery, but after the scare the Gordon family had experienced in Forks, Owen was sure to drive very carefully. What was originally a weekend getaway had turned into a nightmare, and the entire Gordon family was more than happy to be home in Seattle.

To say that the Gordon family was rich was a slight understatement. Owen Gordon was one of the top-selling writers of his generation, known best for his stories about daring young heroes thrust into horror story situations in which they must overcome themselves to survive. Owen had experienced that fear and disliked it so much that he even considered converting to children's books.

When they arrived at their lavish home, Jenna--the housekeeper--was rushing out to greet them. She was running down the stairs in a busy floral blouse and jeans, her apron still on and auburn hair pinned up with chopsticks.

"Ooh my baby! You're home safe!" she cried once Rosemary had gotten out of the backseat. She hugged her firmly and laughed, rocking her back and forth. "I was so worried!" she then proceeded to bring Rosemary's bags as Owen and Trisha unloaded the back. "Thank God you're alright. Are you okay? Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?"

"Jenna, let the girl breathe!" laughed Owen, putting an arm around her shoulder. Rosemary was smiling and stretching her long limbs. She felt a little stiff from huddling up in the back seat of their red Audi Q7, but she was more than relieved to be home. Her parents were talking in the background, as far as she heard, but something about the house… She couldn't help feeling strange, looking at it… The beautiful green vines that covered the bricks, the black tile on the roof, the sweeping stairs that led to the door... Did she live here? Half of her was surprised, half not. It was like this near-death experience had given her a new set of eyes. Suddenly, she felt a surge of being alive—a great happiness that she hadn't felt since summer vacation in Mykonos. She began to run.

"Rosy!" called her mother, but she didn't turn around. The silver buckles on her purple Prada flats made little tinking sounds, like bells, as she ran around the back and down the hill, into the tree-filled garden. There was a beautiful swimming pool with azure tile that shone like lapis lazuli. The entrance to her mother's rose garden was far across the grassy knoll. The sun was dappled and muted behind gray clouds, but the fresh air against her skin felt so good.

"Rosemary," said Owen, putting a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "What are you doing, pumpkin?"

She smiled. "Looking," she said. "I don't know why, but I'm suddenly filled with this huge sense of renewal, you know?"

Owen gave Rosemary a sad smile. "You've had a rough weekend. I think you should take it easy."

"But it's such a pretty day!" The two of them glanced around. "Okay, so it's a _cloudy_ day, but it's still kind of nice out… It smells so good here. Like rain…very fresh! I just want to lie in the grass all day!"

He smiled and hugged her close. "Alright, Rosy, but I come inside if it starts to rain. You know how your mother worries about these kinds of things… We all had a big scare back in Forks." He pushed a few black curls behind her ear. "We thought we were never going to see you again."

Her father was so handsome; red-blond hair and warm gray eyes. Many girls thought over-protective fathers were such a drag—especially ones of Rosemary's age—but she didn't. "I know, Dad. But nobody's going to hurt me in my own backyard."

"Hey, you can't blame me for worrying." Rosemary smiled. "So you're sure you're okay? You don't want to take it easy? Eat something?"

"I'm sure, Dad," Rosemary said, giving an amused smile. "Really, I just want to hang out… Relax in the grass, you know? Just throw my stuff in my room and I'll unpack later." As her father walked away, Rosemary's heart swelled with his muted feelings of joy to have his little girl back. As the talented Mr Gordon walks away and as Rosemary wanders through the grass, allow me to give a brief synopsis of the Gordon family:

Owen is a best-selling author, mostly known for suspense and science fiction novels. His family was well-off already, but growing up, Owen took great pride in working for himself. He is on the brink of a movie deal with his latest book, Malchior, set to be in theaters in August of next year. He likes the mountains, ham sandwiches, and the possibility of a world beyond. Trisha is a very successful real estate agent living in Seattle. When she met Owen, she was a student at the University of Washington as a Civil Engineering major and working towards her real estate license. Her parents owned a dry cleaning store in Chinatown. Trisha had Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and a great attention to detail. She liked things best when there was no room for error, which is perhaps why she found it so relaxing to grow and tend roses in the garden. Trisha did not like her sister, Gwen, who made money as a nail technician/fortune-teller. Rosemary was their only child.

Rosemary Gordon lived in Seattle for her entire life. She was a freshman at the University of Washington as an Art major with a minor in Literature. Her room was littered with sketches of plants and animals, castles and carriages…all the pretty things that little girls often dream about when they were young. Rosemary was well-liked by her friends and classmates, and had a closet full of fancy clothes and shoes. Aside from drawing, another thing she took great pleasure in was cooking—too much so, however, to make a living out of it. On Wednesday nights, she took a cooking class in Downtown Seattle. She had a vanity by her window, and the drawers were full of makeup, costume jewelry, and necklaces. Approximately seven bookcases worth of books in the family library belonged solely to her. All in all, Rosemary Gordon had the life that many girls dream of, but she never fussed nor fought about anything growing up, and she had always been strikingly independent and well-behaved. Other girls were not so well-behaved, and didn't they get Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolets for their 16th birthdays? Another important detail one should know about Rosemary was that she was gifted; not solely in the scholastic way, but in the supernatural way. She picked up the phone before it rang, and answered the door before someone got to the top of the steps. She was very empathic, and was always the best person to talk to when things were down. Her ability to put herself in other people's places was absolutely uncanny—that's why, she thought, she took such great joy in acting.

As she surveyed her mother's roses, the colors seemed to come alive with her 'new eyes.' Senses had been reawakened, and she was happy…and sad. She couldn't get that boy's face out of her head. She felt as if she had known him somehow, some time, some place…as if he was a figure of the fantastical gilded dreams she was so often subject to. His honey gold hair, his haunting eyes, his white skin and perfect lips… Well, she told herself, if it's meant to be, then I'll see him again. The Universe had a strange way of working itself out.

******

It had been two weeks since Alice's death. According to his reading, Jasper was right on schedule with dealing with grief in accordance to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's DABDA: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. He had given up with his anger, his bargaining...he was still, however, spending all day crying. Emmett and Edward no longer tried to rouse him from his room, even for a hunt. His bloodlust had gone out of control since the incident, and he found it wisest to just stay inside, lying on the bed that he and Alice had shared. The walls were lined with bookshelves, full of books that he no longer wanted to read. The closet was full of the pretty dresses and skirts that his bride would never wear again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to get rid of them or not.

A knock came at the door. "Come in," Jasper mumbled into the pillow that still held Alice's scent.

"Jasper?" said Esme as she entered his room. "How are you feeling?" When he didn't answer, Esme sat down on the bed. "I know, me too… Alice was our sunshine. I never thought we would ever be without her. But she saved us, you know. She made this choice to save us all. She wouldn't want you to feel this way…"

"I never thought we would be referring to her in the past tense," whispered Jasper. "These feelings…I don't know how to deal with them. I can only calm other people—not myself."

Esme massaged his back gently. "You're doing a lot better than most people would be. You out of all of us know emotion the best."

"You wanted to tell me something else, didn't you? You feel like you have something that'll make me feel better."

Esme shook her head. "You and Edward," she mused. "Well, although I don't think it's the _wisest_ move to make, I have a feeling it'll make you feel a lot better to know that I believe you," said Esme. "I saw her in the hospital and—although I think it's strange—she very well could be our Alice reincarnated." Jasper smiled, putting his hands on Esme's shoulders.

"You really think so??"

"Hang on, Jasper," Esme said. "I do think that she could be Alice reincarnated but… I can't help but wonder if this is what she wanted. A normal life as a normal girl? A second chance at growing old, having children, maybe…?" She kissed her adopted son on the forehead and got up. "Just think about it, hmm?"

Jasper's head swam in panicked horror. Alice would never do that to him! Alice would never abandon him for a human life—the thought itself was impossible. Edward came to the door next. "Hey, do you want to play baseball? There's another thunderstorm on its way soon." He stopped, looking into Jasper's eyes. "Hang on, Esme didn't mean anything by it—"

"Then what _did_ she mean?" Jasper hissed. "A normal life? How can I even talk to you—if you could do the same thing that Alice did, you would do it in a heartbeat!"

Edward was going to deny it, but he knew that he couldn't. If he could somehow give up his immortality to be with Bella—to grow up with her and marry her and have children with her… He was swept with a feeling of dread. Before he could say anything, though, Jasper was gone out the open window.

*********************************************************************

"Come in!" Rosemary called. A beat, and then the clicking of a doorknob. Enter Trisha, carrying a glass of water and a prescription bottle of Rosemary's pain pills.

"I don't know how you do that—I didn't even knock!"

Rosemary giggled and pushed a few hairs away from her face, smudging a bit of charcoal on her cheek. She was sitting at her easel, wearing a worn yet clean blue button-down shirt she had picked up from Goodwill. Her wavy hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her almond-shaped eyes were locked on the canvas before her. "It's a gift," she said, keeping her eyes on her work. Watercolors were spread out on an end-table next to her easel, along with a jar full of brushes.

Trisha glanced around at her daughter's studio. Being the product of creative genetics, the moment she developed a taste and talent for the visual arts, she was awarded her own drawing studio when she turned twelve(she had been begging for one since she was six). Over the years, she had filled it with chalk drawings, pastels, oils and acrylics, even the occasional marker caricature of her friends. She approached Rosemary.

"I want you to take a dose of these pills; I saw you holding your head at dinner tonight," said Trisha. Rosemary groaned and held up her smudged and paint-covered hands in protest.

"I can't, my hands—"

"Stop fussing," said Trisha, setting down the water glass on Rosemary's sculpture table, next to a pile of clay that was wrapped in wet cheesecloth. She unscrewed the cap and put two pills into her hand.

"But what if they make me sleep in? I have school tomorrow."

"Your class doesn't start until noon. Here, open your mouth." Rosemary gave her mother an annoyed look, but opened her mouth and tilted her head back when she was given the water glass to wash them down. She coughed a little and wiped her mouth with her hand, causing some more charcoal to smudge on her face. Trisha laughed and took a clean rag off the table, dipped it in the water glass and wiped her daughter's face with it.

"Mother— Mother, stop it!"

"Ayo, 'stop it!'" said Trisha, her Mandarin accent coming through. "You look like a clown." Rosemary took the damp cloth and wiped her hands. Trisha crossed her arms and looked at her daughter's latest sketch. "Wow, impressive…" she said. "But…you'll change his eye color? Or is that not a primer?"

"Primer?" Rosemary asked, looking at her painting. "No, his eyes are gold."

"Who has gold eyes?" Trisha asked, cocking her head at the delicate cleft of her subject's chin.

"Jasper does," she answered, pointing to her painting. "I haven't quite gotten his nose right…" She made a few marks with her hard charcoal crayon. "Maybe there…what do you think?" She put a few more marks on his eyebrows, making them a little more prominent, a little more masculine.

Trisha gave Rosemary a quizzical look. "How do you know what Dr Cullen's nephew looks like?"

"I just know, I guess," she said, shrugging. "He might not be the same one… The name seemed to fit him. He just…_looks_ like a 'Jasper,' huh?" Her moist fingers pointed to his eyes, lined with delicate black and smudged with lavender beneath the lines to give him a ghostly appearance.

"He looks sick. Or a statue…maybe a sick statue?" laughed Trisha.

"He's not a sick statue! He's gorgeous! And smart, and very, very…" She stopped, shrugging. "I don't know, he's just someone."

"I still say that was a dream." Rosemary didn't want to say anything else. Mom was left brain, Dad was right—and that's the way it would always be with her parents. "Don't stay up too late," said Trisha, kissing Rosemary on the cheek, and exiting her daughter's studio. Rosemary sat on her stool, legs and arms crossed, and stared. She stared and stared and stared at her painting. Mostly charcoal crayon, some thick yellow watercolor splashed here and there. It was by no means finished, but she had put in a few strokes of brown and honey gold for his hair. She picked up a 2" brush and wet it, then dipped it in a deep, teal blue to paint his shirt. Jasper's piercing eyes and sensuous lips gave her a strange kind of tingling feeling down the back of her neck. Looking into his eyes, she was exhilarated and yet…she had never felt so safe and so secure in her life.

"Don't worry about my mom," said she to the golden eyes of her painting. "She just doesn't understand how minds like ours work. Right, Jasper?" She began to laugh in spite of herself. "Maybe I'll call you Jazz for short?" she said with each stroke of the brush. "I'll bet it seems dumb to talk to my paintings, huh?"

In that moment, when the cool wind from the open window blew through her hair, she could have sworn that the wind whispered a breathy _'No…'_

She smiled at the face she had created for herself. "Maybe you were some kind of…angel of death that decided to let me live?" Rosemary glanced down at her own hands. "That's romantic, huh?" She suddenly laughed hard. "God, this is dumb… But for the past two weeks, I haven't been able to get your face out of my head. I wonder if I really _did_ see you standing at the door?"

The wind answered her with a soft whisper of _'Remember…'_ A chill suddenly went up and down Rosemary's spine. _I should close that window,_ she thought. As she did so, she suddenly felt a great pang of pain in her heart. It was not physical pain, but the kind of pain that happens with passionate, unrequited love. She pushed the window wide open and stuck her head out the window. Nothing but the wind, and the trees, and Washington Park. Nothing but her backyard, the roses… Nothing.

She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow; a vision of Jasper seemed to flash on the backs of her eyelids. Was he a ghost? _No,_ she thought,_ he's real… I can feel… I can feel someone's pain now._ Rosemary leaned out the window, looking out. She knew someone was in pain. The last time she had felt like this, her best friend, Melissa Ridgefield's, cat died.

"I know you're here," she called, her voice slightly hushed so as not to alert her parents or Jenna of her shenanigans. She put her hand on her chest, feeling the beating of another heart nearby. She knew this feeling… "Someone is in pain near me, and it's not my parents nor Jenna," said she to the wind, the darkness. "Please. I can help you. I feel your pain."

The wind gasped.

"Please, who are you?" she whispered a little more urgently. "Whoever you are…I know you can feel me…and you know I can feel you." She held her head, bending slightly. _Is this just a side-effect from the medication?_ She wondered.

Rosemary stood slowly, shaking her head. Her fingers trembled as the wind rushed around. The smell of rain was thick in the air. The mournful moaning of the wind often brought her messages of her friends' plights and pains; the pain she felt now was the pain of a soul she did not know, yet fit her like a puzzle piece. The memory of a cake falling to the ground, covered in blood flashed before her eyes. The memory was hers, yet was not hers. Was it another dream?

'_No…'_ whispered the wind, answering her silent question.

She outstretched her hand, closing her eyes. The wind seemed to tug and pull at her spirit, which wanted so to fly out of the window and rescue the suffering soul. She felt the soul near…she felt its desire to reach out and touch her, hold her hand, feel wanted by her. She felt this so deeply that it made her eyes well. A fire began to burn within her chest, beating to get out like a bird fluttering in its cage.

"I'm leaving this window open," she called quietly after a moment. "I don't want anybody sneaking in to rob us, but I don't want your voice to go away either…" She sighed. "I'll figure out who is hurting sooner or later," she said to herself. "Should you need me…" said she to the wind. "I'll be waiting for you."

With that, she left her studio. The window remained open when the lights went off. Her footsteps echoed further away out the door, so he knew when to jump into her window and let his vampire eyes survey what she had been painting. The mirror image of his lips, his hair, his throat and nose were all staring at him from the canvas. He was overcome with the emotions of her feeling his. He had hardly felt his human emotions in decades, and they were nearly too much for him.

This human was a human girl he did not want to consume…he wanted to kiss, to touch, to love her. It wasn't because she was human, but because deep down, she was Alice. Alice had given him a second chance with his bride. He didn't know what to do next, but he was going to stay in Seattle until he figured it out. And as his long fingers touched his portrait, he whispered: "I'll be waiting for you, too."

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**A/N:** Thanks SOOO much for those great reviews, and to those that subscribed to my story! I'm super-excited about this project and promise to have the next chapter up soon. Of course, the more reviews I get, the more I'm *ahem* motivated to get some stuff done! ^_^ In the meantime, take a moment to check out my other fanfic, "Sorcery," about FF8! Once again, I write about angst-ridden young females at the height of conflict...MAN I'm twisted! xD R&R and THANK YOU READERS!!! 3


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I'm obviously not Stephanie Meyer, so I obviously don't own Twilight. Also, sorry I haven't posted in a while! Holidays--auugh!!!--get to ya after awhile...but hopefully I'm good. If you're interested, also check out my FF8 story. This is my second Penname on here, so check out my old one at Lady-Kinsei if you want. ;)

**Summary:** Jasper has fled Forks, fled the safety of the Cullens' home and fled the safety of the woods where he might hunt in peace. How will the lust-filled Jasper survive in Seattle? And how is the family taking it? Will he find Rosemary and thusly find his Alice again? Read and review! (Remember, the more reviews, the more I know you like it! And the more you like it, the faster I post! xD)

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Since Bella was sleeping upstairs, Edward had taken to playing the piano in the den. Esme was reading in the living room when Rosalie came storming in. "Jasper's gone!" she screeched.

Esme licked her finger and turned the page as Emmett trailed in behind her. "I know," she said calmly. "He left late last night while he and Edward were hunting. You were with Emmett—"

"This is _impossible_!!!"

"Babe," said Emmett, coming up behind her. "Relax."

Rosalie huffed, tugging at the roots of her golden hair. "First Edward and now Jasper! Leaving for some simple _stupid_ human girl! She didn't reincarnate—why doesn't anybody understand that Alice is dead?"

"I'd feel this way if I lost you," offered Emmett. Edward was mildly concerned about waking Bella, but their vampire voices were too high and fast for Bella's ears yet.

Angry black eyes flashed towards her brother. "You tell me where he is, Edward, and tell me now!"

Edward studied her thoughts for the briefest of moments before saying. "Leave him alone."

"He's right, Rosalie." The family looked up as Carlisle came downstairs, briefcase in hand and lab coat over arm. "Jasper needs to grieve in his own way."

"This isn't grieving," spat Rosalie. "This is stupidity. Does he have _any_ idea what he's about to do? He could barely control himself with _ALICE _around! What's he going to do in a city full of people, drunk on grief and irrationality? Does nobody but me care that we're risking exposure?"

"Rosalie, stop it." The room fell silent at the sternness in Emmett's voice. "Will you just let it go? Just let him deal with his shit for a while." Edward and Esme looked at Rosalie while Carlisle gave a knowing look. Rosalie and Jasper had been, surprisingly, close. They had posed as twins for some time now, and they were, in a sense. Rosalie's ferocity and Jasper's appetite seemed to go hand-in-hand as brother and sister would always be. It wasn't just because he shared her gold hair and sensuous lips, the tall frame and lean limbs...it was because there was a sort of tenacity that they both shared. This entire period since Alice's death had created a great riff in the house that would, under normal circumstances, be on the mend. The Cullens themselves were not and could not ever have normal circumstances. They weren't normal. The fact that they were in Forks was risky enough.

As usual, Rosalie stormed away, Emmett rubbing the back of his neck. It seems that she was taking Alice's death especially hard. Bella had taken it hard as well. Any death in any family would be traumatic if it were of this nature—after all, Alice was murdered in that fire. The only good that had come of it was that the others that had attacked her were also dead.

Edward looked up as Bella wobbled down the stairs. With a blink, he was at her side, holding her arm. "What are you doing up?" he asked.

Bella glanced around. "I just heard some noises…" She put a hand on her swollen belly. "It's Rosalie?"

Edward nodded, glancing away. "She's wondering where Jasper went."

"He'll be alright." It was more of a question than a statement. The Cullens were worried, but Carlisle was very calm.

"That's right, Bella," he said, throwing a scarf around his neck as he prepared to head out the door. "The both of them will be just fine."

* * *

The next day, Rosemary was off to school as per usual. It had been sunny that morning, but as she ate lunch in the Quad, gray clouds began to roll in and she was forced to take refuge in the Library. Her iPod was on 'Shuffle' and "Angel of Mine" by Evanescence was playing softy as she finished her essay for Art History 203. Her mind was still a little shaky from the happenings of the past two weeks, but she was trying very hard to distract herself and keep her GPA up.

"Don't even think about it, Dee," warned Rosemary as "So What" by Pink came on. A frustrated sigh came along with the sound of her friend sitting down in the chair next to her.

"Why is it impossible to sneak up on you? I thought head traumas were supposed to hinder stuff."

Rosemary took one of the earphones out and smirked at her friend, Deanna Rice; she nodded at her magenta bob. "Got tired of the electric blue?" she asked.

Deanna giggled, scrunching her pixyish nose in amusement. "Nah, Ma just wanted to try out the new stuff on me. Hey, she could do a real number on you—I can get you a friends and family discount!"

"I wish my mom was a cosmetologist… She is such a worrywart lately," bemoaned Rosemary.

"You almost died in that Forks place—give her a break, huh?"

A black backpack that was covered with buttons and key chains was slammed down on the table as a lanky girl with dirty blonde hair sat down. "I hate men!" screeched her voice through perfectly shaped red lips.

"Shhh!!!" said Rosemary and Deanna simultaneously.

"Ugh," grunted Evelyn, another friend and colleague of Rosemary's. "I am so sick of Mason it's not even funny." Rosemary tried to listen, but let's be honest--Evelyn Bailey was one of _those_ friends. You know the types; if they're not complaining about someone, they die. She much preferred the company of Deanna instead. Even though she didn't fit the conventional molds that everybody liked, she was one of the best friends ever to go shopping with.

"Mason Hart?" asked Deanna. "I thought you guys broke up."

"Tch, he wishes!" said Evelyn as she pulled out a tube of lip gloss. "I'm just toying with him for talking to Chelsea Rose at the boat party last weekend. Remember, Rosemary?"

"I honestly wasn't paying attention to what Mason _or_ Chelsea were doing, but more concentrating on getting Drew Hudson to vomit over the right side of the railing." She took her cell phone, a shiny LG Dare, out of her pocket to see that she had received a text from Lisa Perry.

_"Nudie day in Live Drwng! OMG!"_

Rosemary giggled and put her phone back in her pocket. "Let's walk and talk; class is starting in twenty." As the girls walked and talked, a few heads were turning as a honey-haired Adonis was wandering around the University of Washington campus. His steps were smooth and face was pained in such a way that was irresistible to most girls who saw him. What really drew attention to him was the fact that he was asking all about the whereabouts of a certain dark-haired someone.

When the girls arrived at their Live Drawing class, they took their seats. Rosemary was sandwiched between Deanna and Lisa, with Evelyn on the other side of Deanna. The class was of a decent size, but there was definitely enough room for people to spread out and really see what they were doing. Lisa was another favorite friend of Rosemary's. She was another fantastic shopping buddy, and was an endless ray of sunshine. As they set up, Hunter Warren came up to Rosemary.

"Hey, Rosey, looks like you've got a stalker," he said in the smugly obnoxious tone that could only come from a guy that clearly liked you a little too much, but was trying to dismiss it by being humorously buddy-buddy with you.

"Is he about five-foot-ten and about to get his ass kicked if he doesn't move out of my light?" asked Deanna as she broke out her charcoals. Rosemary laughed.

"What are you doing here?" asked the almond-eyed beauty. "Don't you have Poly Sci 201 next or something?"

"Just wanted to warn you. Some pasty freak has been wandering around asking if they'd seen Rosemary Gordon around."

Immediately, her mind went to Jasper--the golden-eyed beauty she had seemingly invented for herself since her accident. She heard Evelyn dismiss him while she was wrapped in her own thoughts, but Lisa tapped her on her shoulder.

"Actually," said Lisa, her dark eyes sparkling, "there was someone asking about you, but he was _totally_ not a pasty freak. He was totally gorgeous. Blond hair, great shoulders and super-tall like a runway model!"

Rosemary's heart fluttered wildly like a bird. "What??" Her face flushed with blood. "You saw him? Was his name—?"

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, let's settle down," said Prof. Howard. He began to scribble a few points on the chalkboard. "Today you will be doing live drawing of the male form--" a few male students groaned lightly. "--so let's take out our supplies." Prof. Howard pushed his salt-and-pepper hair back and fingered his silk ascot as he looked at the clock. "But he does seem late..."

As if on cue, the model walked in. Everybody in the room gasped—literally gasped. Rosemary did not gasp, for she wasn't surprised enough to know. She knew he was coming, somehow, but didn't expect it to be in her Live Drawing class.

Gold eyes looked around as his pained face struggled to smile. Prof. Howard cleared his throat and sauntered to the model in a way that was just a little too flirtatious. "Are you the model?" he asked.

"The model suddenly got a case of anxiety," said the bronze-haired Adonis. "I'm his back-up." His eyes did not leave Rosemary's. His steps were perfectly fluid, and with each step he took to his place in the center of the room. His eyes dit not leave Rosemary's. He looked so much in pain, yet so much in love. At least, that's what he looked like if you were to ask Rosemary.

Nobody knew what to say, but Rosemary did. "Well?" she asked after a moment. "Take it off."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, sounding...almost desperate, Rosemary thought. Something about the sadness of his eyes, the hunger of his voice...it called to her as his long fingers began unwrapping the fine scarf around his neck, tugging off his jacket, his sweater, his long undershirt. His skin seemed to shine with a porcelain finish, absolutely pristine without a single scar or mark. No sign whatsoever of any kind of human flaw. Rosemary heard the few hungry moans of the female students--and even some male students--at how he reached for the buckle on his belt.

"Christ on a cracker..." whimpered Lisa, holding onto the hem of her skirt for some kind of support.

"Stop!" And he did; an absolute dead stop--he was as a statue would be. The light from the sun came in through the window and illuminated Rosemary's long hair from behind, finding its way to their new model's skin--shining like diamonds. Everybody gasped in shock, but soon assumed that it was some sort of special cream he had put on his skin in order to give that effect. Rosemary knew better. Somehow, for what ever reason, she knew better.

"Why did you make him stop?" whispered Evelyn fiercely to Rosemary, but she was peroccupied with her charcoals.

"That pose is amazing!" she said, quickly making sharp yet fluid motions on her paper. It _was_ an amazing pose; all who had heard her reasonings agreed. The way his hip was flexed, the slant of his shoulders, the look on his face--hungry and full of want. Slowly, other students began to draw their model. Some half-expected to hear Prof. Howard say 'Well that's nice but this is a _nude_ drawing...' but Rosemary knew he was too bedazzled yet. Besides, she figured that this could be a good warm-up drawing.

As the class went on--about fifteen minutes into it--Rosemary had gotten a good feel for their model's body. Some of the girls were simply staring at him. A few of the students in the back couldn't get over how still he was being. What an amazing model!

Another ten minutes passed and Prof. Howard said "Alright, next pose? And--erm, you'll have to take off the rest of your..._ahem_..."

"No problem," purred the model, still keeping his eyes in contact with Rosemary as the fabric of his slim designer jeans slid down his impossibly long legs. Rosemary honestly thought that the entire class was going to faint when he was completely nude. He assumed a contrapposto pose, similar to the statue of David, his hand near his mouth as if he were about to take a bite of a fresh apple. Rosemary took it upon herself to add an apple in his hand in her drawing.

Once the two hours were over, the bell rang and stirred the shaky-kneed girls from their stools and hurried them to gather their pencils and charcoals to leave. The model was still. Perfectly still, still. Prof. Howard told him he could move, and he began to slowly dress himself. Rosemary lingered at class, staring at the lavender around his eyes, the diamond-like sheen of his skin in the sunlight. This model had gone all-out, spoke her logical side. Quickly, however, she hurried herself out to her car before she could give into her desires and speak with the bronze-haired Adonis that seemed to be so entranced with Rosemary Alicia Gordon.

* * *

R&R my friends! Thanks for reading--and thank you SOOOO Much for the support! I promise to cover a little more on the mysteries of Alice's death, but that's for later chapters. Make sure to keep up the great work! 3


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Once again, I am not Stephanie Meyer nor do I own Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, or Breaking Dawn. I do, however, own "Morning." YAY ME!

**Summary:** The story so far! Coping with Alice's death is hard on all the Cullens. Jasper has run away from Forks and nobody knows where he is. When Rosemary's art class has a surprise visitor, will her memories come streaming back all at once?

* * *

Since Bella was sleeping upstairs, Edward had taken to playing the piano in the den. Esme was reading in the living room when Rosalie came storming in. "Jasper's gone!" she screeched.

Esme licked her finger and turned the page as Emmett trailed in behind her. "I know," she said calmly. "He left late last night while he and Edward were hunting. You were with Emmett—"

"This is _impossible_!!!"

"Babe," said Emmett, coming up behind her. "Relax."

Rosalie huffed, tugging at the roots of her golden hair. "First Edward and now Jasper! Leaving for some simple _stupid_ human girl! She didn't reincarnate—why doesn't anybody understand that Alice is dead?"

"I'd feel this way if I lost you," offered Emmett. Edward was mildly concerned about waking Bella, but their vampire voices were too high and fast for Bella's ears yet.

Angry black eyes flashed towards her brother. "You tell me where he is, Edward, and tell me now!"

Edward studied her thoughts for the briefest of moments before saying. "Leave him alone."

"He's right, Rosalie." The family looked up as Carlisle came downstairs, briefcase in hand and lab coat over arm. "Jasper needs to grieve in his own way."

"This isn't grieving," spat Rosalie. "This is stupidity. Does he have _any_ idea what he's about to do? He could barely control himself with _ALICE _around! What's he going to do in a city full of people, drunk on grief and irrationality? Does nobody but me care that we're risking exposure?"

"Rosalie, stop it." The room fell silent at the sternness in Emmett's voice. "Will you just let it go? Just let him deal with his shit for a while." Edward and Esme looked at Rosalie while Carlisle gave a knowing look. Rosalie and Jasper had been, surprisingly, close. They had posed as twins for some time now, and they were, in a sense. Rosalie's ferocity and Jasper's appetite seemed to go hand-in-hand as brother and sister would always be. It wasn't just because he shared her gold hair and sensuous lips, the tall frame and lean limbs...it was because there was a sort of tenacity that they both shared. This entire period since Alice's death had created a great riff in the house that would, under normal circumstances, be on the mend. The Cullens themselves were not and could not ever have normal circumstances. They weren't normal. The fact that they were back in Forks was risky enough.

As usual, Rosalie stormed away, Emmett rubbing the back of his neck. It seems that she was taking Alice's death especially hard. Bella had taken it hard as well. Any death in any family would be traumatic if it were of this nature—after all, Alice was murdered in that fire. The only good that had come of it was that the others that had attacked her were also dead.

Edward looked up as Bella wobbled down the stairs. With a blink, he was at her side, holding her arm. "What are you doing up?" he asked.

Bella glanced around. "I just heard some noises…" She put a hand on her swollen belly. "It's Rosalie?"

Edward nodded, glancing away. "She's wondering where Jasper went."

"He'll be alright." It was more of a question than a statement. The Cullens were worried, but Carlisle was very calm.

"That's right, Bella," he said, throwing a scarf around his neck as he prepared to head out the door. "The both of them will be just fine."

*********************

The next day, Rosemary was off to school as per usual. It had been sunny that morning, but as she ate lunch in the Quad, gray clouds began to roll in and she was forced to take refuge in the Library. Her iPod was on 'Shuffle' and "Angel of Mine" by Evanescence was playing softy as she finished her essay for Art History 203. Her mind was still a little shaky from the happenings of the past two weeks, but she was trying very hard to distract herself and keep her GPA up.

"Don't even think about it, Dee," warned Rosemary as "So What" by Pink came on. A frustrated sigh came along with the sound of her friend sitting down in the chair next to her.

"Why is it impossible to sneak up on you? I thought head traumas were supposed to hinder stuff."

Rosemary took one of the earphones out and smirked at her friend, Deanna Rice; she nodded at her magenta bob. "Got tired of the electric blue?" she asked.

Deanna giggled, scrunching her pixyish nose in amusement. "Nah, Ma just wanted to try out the new stuff on me. Hey, she could do a real number on you—I can get you a friends and family discount!"

"I wish my mom was a cosmetologist… She is such a worrywart lately," bemoaned Rosemary.

"You almost died in that Forks place—give her a break, huh?"

A black backpack that was covered with buttons and key chains was slammed down on the table as a lanky girl with dirty blonde hair sat down. "I hate men!" screeched her voice through perfectly shaped red lips.

"Shhh!!!" said Rosemary and Deanna simultaneously.

"Ugh," grunted Evelyn, another friend and colleague of Rosemary's. "I am so sick of Mason it's not even funny." Rosemary tried to listen, but let's be honest--Evelyn Bailey was one of _those_ friends. You know the types; if they're not complaining about someone, they die. She much preferred the company of Deanna instead. Even though she didn't fit the conventional molds that everybody liked, she was one of the best friends ever to go shopping with.

"Mason Hart?" asked Deanna. "I thought you guys broke up."

"Tch, he wishes!" said Evelyn as she pulled out a tube of lip gloss. "I'm just toying with him for talking to Chelsea Rose at the boat party last weekend. Remember, Rosemary?"

"I honestly wasn't paying attention to what Mason _or_ Chelsea were doing, but more concentrating on getting Drew Hudson to vomit over the right side of the railing." She took her cell phone, a shiny LG Dare, out of her pocket to see that she had received a text from Lisa Perry.

_"Nudie day in Live Drwng! OMG!"_

Rosemary giggled and put her phone back in her pocket. "Let's walk and talk; class is starting in twenty." As the girls walked and talked, a few heads were turning as a honey-haired Adonis was wandering around the University of Washington campus. His steps were smooth and face was pained in such a way that was irresistible to most girls who saw him. What really drew attention to him was the fact that he was asking all about the whereabouts of a certain dark-haired someone.

When the girls arrived at their Live Drawing class, they took their seats. Rosemary was sandwiched between Deanna and Lisa, with Evelyn on the other side of Deanna. The class was of a decent size, but there was definitely enough room for people to spread out and really see what they were doing. Lisa was another favorite friend of Rosemary's. She was another fantastic shopping buddy, and was an endless ray of sunshine. As they set up, Hunter Warren came up to Rosemary.

"Hey, Rosey, looks like you've got a stalker," he said in the smugly obnoxious tone that could only come from a guy that clearly liked you a little too much, but was trying to dismiss it by being humorously buddy-buddy with you.

"Is he about five-foot-ten and about to get his ass kicked if he doesn't move out of my light?" asked Deanna as she broke out her charcoals. Rosemary laughed.

"What are you doing here?" asked the almond-eyed beauty. "Don't you have Poly Sci 201 next or something?"

"I just wanted to warn you. Some pasty freak has been wandering around asking if they'd seen Rosemary Gordon around."

Immediately, her mind went to Jasper--the golden-eyed beauty she had seemingly invented for herself since her accident. She heard Evelyn dismiss him while she was wrapped in her own thoughts, but Lisa tapped her on her shoulder.

"Actually," said Lisa, her dark eyes sparkling, "there was someone asking about you, but he was _totally_ not a pasty freak. He was totally gorgeous. Blond hair, great shoulders and super-tall like a runway model!"

Rosemary's heart fluttered wildly like a bird. "What??" Her face flushed with blood. "You saw him? Was his name—?"

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, let's settle down," said Prof. Howard. He began to scribble a few points on the chalkboard. "Today you will be doing live drawing of the male form--" a few male students groaned lightly. "--so let's take out our supplies." Prof. Howard pushed his salt-and-pepper hair back and fingered his silk ascot as he looked at the clock. "But he does seem late..."

As if on cue, the model walked in. Everybody in the room gasped—literally gasped. Rosemary did not gasp, for she wasn't surprised enough to know. She knew he was coming, somehow, but didn't expect it to be in her Live Drawing class.

Gold eyes looked around as his pained face struggled to smile. Prof. Howard cleared his throat and sauntered to the model in a way that was just a little too flirtatious. "Are you the model?" he asked.

"The model suddenly got a case of anxiety," said the bronze-haired Adonis. "I'm his back-up." His eyes did not leave Rosemary's. His steps were perfectly fluid, and with each step he took to his place in the center of the room. His eyes dit not leave Rosemary's. He looked so much in pain, yet so much in love. At least, that's what he looked like if you were to ask Rosemary.

Nobody knew what to say, but Rosemary did. "Well?" she asked after a moment. "Take it off."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, sounding...almost desperate, Rosemary thought. Something about the sadness of his eyes, the hunger of his voice...it called to her as his long fingers began unwrapping the fine scarf around his neck, tugging off his jacket, his sweater, his long undershirt. His skin seemed to shine with a porcelain finish, absolutely pristine without a single scar or mark. No sign whatsoever of any kind of human flaw. Rosemary heard the few hungry moans of the female students--and even some male students--at how he reached for the buckle on his belt.

"Christ on a cracker..." whimpered Lisa, holding onto the hem of her skirt for some kind of support.

"Stop!" And he did; an absolute dead stop--he was as a statue would be. The light from the sun came in through the window and illuminated Rosemary's long hair from behind, finding its way to their new model's skin--shining like diamonds. Everybody gasped in shock, but soon assumed that it was some sort of special cream he had put on his skin in order to give that effect. Rosemary knew better. Somehow, for whatever reason, she knew better.

"Why did you make him stop?" whispered Evelyn fiercely to Rosemary, but she was preoccupied with her charcoals.

"That pose is amazing!" she said, quickly making sharp yet fluid motions on her paper. It _was_ an amazing pose; all who had heard her reasoning agreed. The way his hip was flexed, the slant of his shoulders, the look on his face--hungry and full of want. Slowly, other students began to draw their model. Some half-expected to hear Prof. Howard say 'Well that's nice but this is a _nude_ drawing...' but Rosemary knew he was too bedazzled yet. Besides, she figured that this could be a good warm-up drawing.

As the class went on--about fifteen minutes into it--Rosemary had gotten a good feel for their model's body. Some of the girls were simply staring at him. A few of the students in the back couldn't get over how still he was being. What an amazing model!

Another ten minutes passed and Prof. Howard said "Alright, next pose? And--erm, you'll have to take off the rest of your..._ahem_..."

"No problem," purred the model, still keeping his eyes in contact with Rosemary as the fabric of his slim designer jeans slid down his impossibly long legs. Rosemary honestly thought that the entire class was going to faint when he was completely nude. He assumed a contrapposto pose, similar to the statue of David, his hand near his mouth as if he were about to take a bite of a fresh apple. Rosemary took it upon herself to add an apple in his hand in her drawing.

Once the two hours were over, the bell rang and stirred the shaky-kneed girls from their stools and hurried them to gather their pencils and charcoals to leave. The model was still. Perfectly still, still. Prof. Howard told him he could move, and he began to slowly dress himself. Rosemary lingered at class, staring at the lavender around his eyes, the diamond-like sheen of his skin in the sunlight. This model had gone all-out, spoke her logical side. Quickly, however, she hurried herself out to her car before she could give into her desires and speak with the bronze-haired Adonis that seemed to be so entranced with Rosemary Alicia Gordon. That, however, didn't save her from what happened next.

* * *

**A/N**: Read and Review! To all of those who favorited my story, thank you SOOOO MUCH! You guys are the best! Email me with questions/comments/suggestions. Sorry it's been so long. Thanks!


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